


Waking Dream

by storiewriter



Series: Bentley Farkas fics [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Groknar the Destroyer, Transcendence AU, demonic dipper, mindscape, the Flock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiewriter/pseuds/storiewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Alcor the Dreambender had checked, his corner of the mindscape was for himself and those who belonged to him. Therefore, finding a small human child sitting in the grass, clutching a Dream and running its fingers through the Dream’s wool, was more than unprecedented. It was curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Look more Bentley. I started writing and couldn't stop and it was a great experience.

            The last time Alcor the Dreambender had checked (or not, as he was an all-powerful near-omniscient being who had little use for references outside of human attachment to them), his corner of the mindscape was for himself and those who belonged to him. Nobody intruded because nobody was stupid enough to, and that suited him just fine.

            Therefore, finding a small human child sitting in the grass, clutching a Dream and running its fingers through the Dream’s wool, was more than unprecedented. It was _curious_.

            “And then Daddy read me my favorite bedtime story, even though I think I might be getting a bit old for them. Nightmares aren’t very fun.”

            Groknar the Destroyer baa’d and gave the child an almost affronted look from where he was snuggled up beside the child. The tiny human leaned into Groknar the Destroyer and hummed reassurances, freeing one hand to scratch at the Nightmare’s jaw.

            When Groknar the Destroyer’s three eyes slid halfway shut and he let out a happy little rumbling noise, Alcor the Dreambender decided that maybe it was time for the invader to leave. He stepped forward, making his presence known.

            “W̷͏̕h҉̕ó̶ ͏a̢̕ŕ͞e͢ ҉y̵̢̨o͠͞u̶͞ ҉t̶o̵̢͡ ͢͏̴e̵͜͟n̵̛̛t̴͡e̸ŗ ̷m̵͘͢y̶ ͜re̴a͏̡̡l͜m̕͡ ̡w̵̶̕i͏th҉̡͝ou̕҉ţ̡̛ p̶̡̕e͝r̛͘͡m̴̨i̧̛͝s̡͠sion͘, ̸̢͡c̴h͠il͝d̛͠?̵”

            The human looked up, eyes wide but without that familiar tinge of fear that Alcor had seen time and time again in the faces of his rare summoner. In fact, instead of trembling where it sat, instead of sputtering excuses and apologies for inciting his attention, the small human carefully picked the Dream up and placed it in the grass next to Groknar the Destroyer.

            It then leapt to its feet and launched itself at Alcor the Dreambender’s legs, wrapping its arms around the demon’s waist and burying its face into his stomach. “Alcor!”

            For a moment, Alcor the Dreambender, Devourer of Souls, did not know how to respond, and so he didn’t. He stood there, blinking dumbly at his Nightmare Flock as they side-eyed him, some surprised and some wary but most trying not to laugh. Groknar the Destroyer even let out a huff of air that was likely meant to be interpreted as a scoffing chuckle.

            “It’s so great to meet you and this is an awesome dream this is the best why do you have sheep are these your sheep or do they just live with you are you just a dream or are you real I can’t really tell because I know I fell asleep and this is so awesome!”

            Alcor the Dreambender just looked down at this human child’s face, at the excitement (that’s right, that was a human expression) and the joy (it looked so familiar) and the glee (that had him wanting to look around for a glitter attack, now why would that be?). When he spoke, the powerful reverberation had left his voice. “What.”

            The human child looked up at him, eyes still wide, and stepped away. It then put its hands on its hips and looked around the meadow, something in its mannerisms whispering _familiar_ and _family_ to Alcor. “Where do you live? I don’t see a house. Is your wife with you? What about Gliese?”

            “I have no children,” Alcor stated, narrowing his eyes. “And no wife.”

            It stopped and stared at him. “This is definitely a dream.”

            Alcor wondered to himself why he hadn’t shown this child a new form of nightmare, but made no move to act on the idea. “Why do you say that?”

            The child shrugged and started to turn in a circle, its bright orange clothing casting a glow of its own on the desaturated grass. “Well, I remember going to sleep, and I remember having a nightmare and waking up, and Daddy coming in and reading _Mizar and the No Good Awful Day_ to me. And I remember falling asleep again and then waking up here, which is not where my bedroom is.”

            How did a child find its way into his territory by falling asleep? _Mizar, Mizar_ , another part of him whispered, but he ignored it. “And?”

            Executing a quick twirl, the child responded, “You said you weren’t married and you don’t have a daughter, so this has to be a dream.”

            Alcor reached out and wrapped his hand around one of the child’s wrists. It looked back at him, and the curve of its face was all wrong, its nose was too flat, its hair was too dark but it was right in all the bright bright ways and Alcor felt as though he were on the edge of an important realization.

            “Who are you?” he asked, ignoring the Flock around them.

            The child turned to face him, unafraid that there were talons brushing the skin above his veins, unafraid that the most powerful demon in the universe was exerting control over one of his limbs. It smiled, bright and wide and so right that Alcor felt the breath leave him.

            “I’m Bentley!”

            _Bentley Josh Farkas_ , his omniscience said, _son of Philip Frank Farkas and Soon Ae Huerta. Human male, nine years old. Soul previously known as Mira, as Belle, as Carmen as Max as Emil as Martha Malala Marissa Rosie MapleAiMabelMaisieCathy MABEL. MABEL._

 _Mizar_ , that part of him whispered again, except this whisper was more of a yell and Alcor felt himself overwhelmed by joy and sorrow and longing. _Mabel. Mizar._

He crouched down and looked up at the child—at Bentley, at the Bentley-child who had found its way into his home, into his domain, and he smiled up at him. It was probably not a nice smile, and he caught the flash of unease that crossed the child’s face at the sight of two rows of shark-sharp teeth bared. His hand tightened just a bit around the child’s wrist.

“And you are not scared of me?”

The Bentley-child frowned and met his gaze, flicking back and forth between each of Alcor’s eyes. He then stepped forward and patted Alcor on the head. “No.”

It would be so easy. So easy to reach up and wrap his mouth around the boy’s wrist, feel the teeth sever tendon and bury into muscle, to slice through bone and drink the imaginary blood of this intruder to the Mindscape. But that part of him grew stronger and yelled _MIZAR. MABEL. MIZAR._ so he did not.

“Why?” He asked, because he was a demon and he was meant to be feared, despite that growing part of him that screamed out for familial love and warmth and human attention ungarnered by warped promises and spilled blood.

Bentley pulled his hand away from the demon’s head, still staring Alcor in the eye. “You’re Alcor the Dreambender, and you protect the innocent and punish the wrongdoers. Why should I be scared?”

 _It would be so easy_. So easy to take this open mind and twist it into fulfilling his service, into spilling blood and spreading chaos and obeying his every word, so easy to take that soft hand patting his hair and soak it in blood until it never washed out. It would be so easy to convince this child to sell Alcor his soul, his soul, and Alcor looked into it on a whim and he saw

_Mizar_

_Twin_

_Mine_

He could have commanded Bentley to wake. He could have commanded Bentley to go to the kitchen, take a knife out of the drawer, enter his father’s room and pour his blood out, then use it to paint the walls and tell the world of Alcor’s greatness. He could have used Bentley’s body until its strings snapped and instead, Alcor let go of Bentley’s wrist, gentle in a way he hadn’t been in centuries.

There was something waking up in him, and it sang in the presence of this child.

“You’re right,” he murmured, standing up and holding his hand out. “You shouldn’t be. Would you like to see my home?”

Bentley’s face was as bright as his soul’s namesake. “Really?”

“Of course,” Alcor said, and as Bentley wrapped his fingers around Alcor’s palm, something younger and more energetic filled the demon. “I’ll show you the Shack—well, it looks like the Shack, but it’s not quite that anymore. It’s my home.”

The boy soaked up every word, and he grinned wide and full of bright human joy. “The Shack? Where is it?”

Alcor flung an arm out, soaking up the attention and dimly remembering faces he could only name as _niblings_. “Over there, in that copse. Where the pines are.”

He beamed down at Bentley, and then pulled him up onto his shoulders. Bentley shrieked and laughed, and Groknar the Destroyer baa’d a question that had Alcor snorting in humor.

“Who said anything about stalking?” he mumbled to the Nightmare, and then he turned and walked up and over the hill towards the glen and the Shack, Bentley giggling and cackling in his bright orange pajamas.

 

When Bentley woke, he remembered only flashes of blurry dream and laughter.

 

When Dipper woke a mere four years later, he remembered the tragedies he’d enacted upon the world. He remembered the sacrifices, the pleading guardians and the begging children, the greedy and the rotten, and he remembered twisting their words and devouring their souls or their lives or their families. He mourned and moped for a year that felt like a decade, wandered the halls of the Shack and existed only as an entity of self-flagellation.

And as he stepped foot into the room of Souls, he abruptly remembered that bright young Mizar— _Bentley,_ he thought to himself—and how accepting and open he was and he ached for it. He ached for the joy, the brightness.

So he blipped into Bentley Josh Farkas’s bedroom, jittery with excitement and fear and hope. He did not think to look into Bentley’s recent life, because what need did a near-omniscient demon have for references?

 


End file.
